


Wayward Shelter

by Ezlebe



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Post-Canon, mild exhibitionism, soft kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 05:29:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11730468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ezlebe/pseuds/Ezlebe
Summary: A quiet blip pierces the office, signaling the arrival of ascheduledappointment. Ren immediately reacts with a silent snarl, opening his eyes and making to get up, but Hux manages to keep him down with an all-too-easy shove at his shoulder."Stay," Hux mutters, lifting his other hand to the door release. "She can't see you."





	Wayward Shelter

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to valveillen ! They did [some amazing fanart.](https://valveillen.tumblr.com/post/164028141192/wip-inspired-by-a-fic-wayward-shelter-by-ezlebe)

Hux draws his hand through Ren's thick hair, gently twisting curls around his fingers. He wishes there was better warning for this, more than Ren being just  _slightly_  more of an ass than normal; as it is, he's unprepared to accommodate this today in particular, yet still he humors the mood.

Ren leans upward with a marked tip of his head to shove into Hux's palm, a hum low and long under his breath. His legs fold out from under him, giving him way to fall heavy against Hux's thigh.

Hux rolls his eyes, tugging shortly on a few strands of hair. "I don’t need you passed out in my office again."

“I hate…” Ren trails off with an awkward shake of his head, turning his nose into Hux’s leg with a heavy sigh. “Why do you even tolerate this?”

Hux doesn’t bother to answer, knowing his belief that this is far cheaper than Ren’s _former_ method of tension relief is hardly conductive to mood, instead tilting his hand and drawing a thumb over Ren's thick brow, careful of the tender scar – an angry knot of pink bisecting an already uneven expression. It winds down into the loose folds of his tunic and onto a shoulder underneath, unforgiving of form or factor.

Hux loathes and reveres what it represents in equal measures, failure and survival warring against one another on Ren's face in irrevocable proof. It will fade in time, but never disappear – too late for that. "What this time?"

Ren grunts low in his throat, eyes falling closed; it seems to be the extent of his answer.

Hux is still for a moment longer, then sighs, drawing his fingers again though that hair and feeling muscle relax against his leg. He knows the drill by now, how Ren just wants a warm touch – an illusion of affection. 

The first time, Ren had collapsed more than willfully fallen, half-delusional from blood loss and trying to escape a crevasse of his mind. It had led him somehow to Hux's feet, shaky hand curling around an ankle, his greasy crown of hair splayed across a thigh. It had been tense on Hux's end – unsure what was happening or how to react – his muscles growing stiff under this beast of a man; eventually, he'd lifted a hand to push Ren away, taking him by the head, only to receive a soft whimper in return and a hesitant push back into his palm.

It had been so pitiful that Hux fulfilled the unspoken request, ineptly giving comfort he was unqualified to provide. It was… pleasant to feel so personally needed, creating some self-contained privacy separate from his duties to the First Order – a sentiment that still follows him whenever Ren arrives now in a tense fit. It's weak and indulgent from both ends of their unspoken deal.

A quiet blip pierces the office, signaling the arrival of a  _scheduled_  guest. Ren immediately reacts with a silent snarl, opening his eyes and making to get up, but Hux keeps him down with an all-too-easy shove at his shoulder. 

"Stay," Hux mutters, lifting his other hand to the door release. "She can't see you."

"Sir," Unamo says, stepping in with a share of awkwardness, folding her hands at her back and heels clicking together. "I would like to thank you again for adapting to my schedule."

"It couldn't be helped," Hux says, gesturing to the chairs across his desk with a nod of his chin. 

Unamo takes a hesitant few steps and sinks into the notoriously uncomfortable seat, straightening her back as she produces a data pad and drops it to his desk. A holo appears from the projector, displaying Unamo's completed weekly tasks in a neat list, from overseeing cannon repair to her own daily workstation duty.

Ren shoves his face back into Hux's thigh with a silent grimace, as if he can hide better from the chance he might be seen through sheer will. The desk is too high for her to catch anything, something Ren should know by the fact he can sit near underneath it so comfortable.

Hux resists for a short moment before drawing a pair of fingers across the shell of a standout ear, knowing without looking that Ren is likely glaring upward with narrowed eyes. He just hates to be patronized, but it's so difficult to resist at times likes these – even as they've exactly never happened. It does feel illicit somehow, when objectively he knows it might only be classified as a bit weird.

"Proceed, Petty Officer," Hux says, setting his hand in a short cycle across Ren's hair and down his jaw. He's definitely taking liberties never expressly given, abusing a sparse accord for this nameless growth of humor at the center of his chest. 

Unamo nods shortly, reaching forward and tapping at the first item to make it expand into a fully fledged report across the desk. “I would like to start with the repairs on the lateral stern ventral cannons.”

Hux loses interest too quickly, attention pulled back to the warmth along his leg. He looks down in a manner he hopes is more absent than dismissive to Unamo, running his thumb over the dotted arch of a cheek when the fancy strikes him.

Ren is staring up at him, eyes soft but focused. He gives a silent little sigh, hand curling further around a calf as he rubs his cheek into soft muscle of Hux's thigh. 

Hux smirks back, digging his nails into Ren's hair and scratching down the line of his scalp. The reaction is almost immediate – a tensing of shoulders that leads to a minor tremble, then an almost boneless exhale of relief; the sight alone nearly makes Hux huff, odd amusement drawing at the edges of his mind. Ren is so easy to predict in these moments.

"Is that not acceptable, sir?"

"It is, Petty Officer," Hux says, looking back up and vaguely recalling the past couple minutes of rabble across the desk – she wants a few more technicians for her project, or some such nonsense. He can simply check his tapes later in the unlikely event his distraction lost a few details. "If not, I'll… send Lord Ren to handle it."

"Oh," Unamo intones, her voice dropping low. "I-I see."

"The Lord would like that, wouldn't he?" Hux says, glancing down with a smirk and scratching through smooth hair again, watching as Ren rolls his eyes with a sharp upturn at his mouth. "Yes."

"Ah, uh," Unamo stutters, falling silent for a beat, "Yes, sir?"

"What of your hours on the bridge," Hux asks, tightening his mouth into a firmer line as he returns focus to Unamo. "Is the altered schedule more accommodating?"

"Yes, sir.” 

"I do expect you to return to previous after your partner has recovered," Hux says in a deliberately cool tone, watching it prompt Unamo to shrink backward in her seat. He knows she's been taking some advantage for leave, but his current reputation is too precarious for an outright reprimand. "The weekly meeting is tantamount to your rank."

Unamo reaches forward for her data pad, giving a slow nod, "Of course, sir.”

"You're dismissed.”

Unamo stands with another nod, only to actually trip on her second step, staring sideways with apparent shock. It makes her shoulders visibly tighten and hands curl at her sides, any relief at delivering her report fading in an instant.

Hux glances in the same direction, bemused, then feels his eyes widen before he can catch himself – of course, the single time it would've been better for Ren to throw his helmet at Hux's feet. He forces himself to seem unconcerned when Unamo furtively looks around the room again as she stops at the door. "Is there something else?"

"No, sir," Unamo says, anxiously curling lips over her teeth. She takes a deep breath and nods once, taping at the door release with visible haste, “Thank you, sir.”

Once the door has sealed closed, Hux stares at the helmet with some mixture of irritation and reluctance. He has long complained of Ren’s disorganized mannerisms, and he's thus far encouraged a smidge more decorum, making this an awkward place for Hux to hover between scolding and appreciative.

“Are you nearly at equilibrium?” Hux asks, dismissing the matter any further before he can start questioning himself along similar lines.

Ren has relaxed some with them now alone in the room, eyes falling closed and his breath evening out into long cycles. He makes a chuffing noise after a few seconds of silence, but it's no real answer.

Hux rolls his eyes, shifting his leg so Ren is forced to lean in awkwardly on his knees. “I told you, not on the floor.”

“Don't care,” Ren murmurs, a pout growing across his mouth. His eyes peek open, head tilting just slightly until his shoulder and neck at one side are at a perfect arch, “Do you?”

“I know it's not comfortable,” Hux sighs, dropping his hand to lay with the backs of his knuckles against a wide shoulder.

The cloak, normally tight around Ren’s shoulders, has managed to fall loose with his squirming, the seam of his pleated top underneath split open a few centimeters to reveal a pallid slice of skin along his neck. It is on the unscarred side, only marred by a pair of misplaced curls, and Hux swallows against a reluctantly familiar fantasy digging its way up his consciousness.

He can't help but imagine it now with the canvas before him, a wide, black leather band around Ren’s neck to match his habit of collapsing at Hux’s feet, perhaps inlaid with a few short geometric designs in red. He would wear it so well, hidden just under his high-necked robes, and like this it almost seems like Hux can already see it, already feel it if he just...

No, _no,_ that's an unacceptable train of thought. Ren doesn't act this way for some _joy_ of it; it's not some sort of game, and to think this way is… is undoubtedly treason to the First Order itself for his own selfishness. Ren needed this coddling for recovery and now for function. He would have sought it out in anyone who had been near him at the moment.

The fact it was Hux and not some medic is little more than coincidence. It doesn't matter that the truth of it can crack a fissure between Hux’s ribs, or that he might be starting to yearn for these occasions himself; it's simply his duty to keep the Order’s top agent in working condition.

He tries not to think about the quickly approaching moment that this particular service is no longer needed, nor these stolen moments of quiet. He can’t help but wonder now if Ren will even say anything, or if he’ll perhaps simply stop visiting altogether. Hux isn’t even sure which one will be most hurtful.

“Do you have more?”

“More?” Hux repeats, somewhat relieved to be drawn out of his churning thoughts.

“Meetings,” Ren says, a pinching frown at his mouth that may very well be a pout, “From morons who believed war was a good time to have children.”

Hux ignores the attempt at insult, unnecessarily swiping at the holopad to reveal a clear schedule. He has little to do these days with no projects active nor on the horizon, not to mention he’s been ordered to cease warfare for little more reason than _whim_. “Not for the next ternary cycle.”

Ren stares up at him, blinking slowly, dark lashes practically _fluttering_ , “Then why should I move?”

“Because despite attitude, you're not a child,” Hux says flatly, turning his hand to gently take Ren’s chin in his palm, then giving it a small shake. “You’ll wake sore.”

Ren narrows his eyes, leaning into Hux's grip, “Then you move.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don't. Have any meetings,” Ren says, glancing down with a certain quick swipe of tongue along rolling lips. His hand has gotten much higher than usual on Hux’s leg, just along the inside of a knee, and so light to be almost teasing with the suggestion to go even further.

Hux tries to swallow against a suddenly dry throat. “I still have work _,_ Ren _. I_ can’t exercise a couple of hours and decide I’m done.”

“You only need the data pad, General,” Ren says, shifting and turning on his knees, until his cheek is flat on the top of Hux’s thigh, lips softly brushing fabric as he speaks, “And no one comes here uninvited.”

Hux glances up to the door, then sideways at the escape hatch to his quarters – a narrow, claustrophobic passage that looks now far more to tempting than it has any reason. He exhales a shallow breath, looking down again and running the edge of his thumb along a slyly angled cheek. He shifts in his seat, prompting Ren to peek up, but only brings his other hand down to sink both of them into and through Ren’s hair, combing it to the back of his head in a move that has Ren giving a short, undoubtedly pointed whimper.

“Oh, fine,” Hux mutters, already certain he'll be going over the proceeding encounter tomorrow with barbs of regretful hindsight. He’s fairly certain Ren is angling for a bed, though in what real context – does he simply want to sleep comfortably? It seems terribly unlikely, but Ren has never… He's not acted like _this_ before.

Ren leans back when Hux moves upward to stand, quietly following with his eyes and keeping still sitting on his heels. The implication of his waiting to be called is a heady feeling.

Hux gathers his data pad and takes a pen he won't mind losing, then reaches over and drags a hand through Ren’s hair with a short tug. “Come along then, you brat.”

Ren rises to his feet with an easy grace, following at Hux’s heels to the hatch with only a single owlish blink in hesitation. He goes first when Hux gestures downward, shoulders hunching inward like he thinks he might be too big, and Hux determinedly ignores the little shiver of sentimentality over his mind.

The quarters are cool with ill-timed arrival, and Hux takes a few steps to the opposing wall and initiates the thermostat. The quiet hum of a heater eases a certain comfort in, and he turns around with an exhale to find Ren still standing and looking too large just next to the angled passage into the sitting room.

Hux swallows thickly and bends down, pulling at the binds on his boots and separating them down the inseam with a pull. He stares at socked ankles for a split second of unfounded panic, then quickly angles the boot off his heel with a practiced yank. He sets the pair at their place near his closet, correcting their position as usual, and approaches with a slow breath the cot.

It's rather larger than the standard, though still easily folds up to free the space for morning exercises or to extract a desk from the opposing wall. He leaves it down, most often, and now pretends apathy that it might be noticed as he turns to recline with his back to the wall and one hand around his datapad. He opens a long-finished purchasing document, peeking from the corner of his eye even as he plays at being unconcerned with the statue-still shadow now hanging over him.

Ren eventually moves forward with a few indecisive steps, but Hux finds himself acting on split second impulse for a taunt, reaching out and laying a flat hand on a shoulder just as Ren leans onto the edge of the mattress. It leaves them both in an awkward place, Ren bent over and frozen while Hux is not-quite pressing him back.

“I don't think so,” Hux murmurs, leisurely drawing fingers up and across the high collar of Ren’s tunic, along the edges of warm skin at his neck. He exhales slowly, looking up to Ren’s widening eyes, “I won't have these sweaty rags in my bed. Take them off.”

Ren swallows, throat convulsing under Hux’s hand and seeming to wait for it to fall away before he moves back. He makes quick work after that, undeniably hasty, reaching for his belt with a glance downward and a clumsy fumble, and even folds his clothing into a neat, squared pile that he leaves on the floor next to Hux’s boots. His underwear is all that remains when he steps forward again, though it does little to hide the shape of his cock underneath as he proceeds to knee unhindered to the vacant side of the bed.

The sight lingers behind Hux's eyes even as Ren curls up tight on the bunk, forehead pressing into Hux’s hip and eyes falling closed as if he legitimately means to sleep. It’s not really so different from the office, if now with bare skin on display in place of artfully torn cloaks.

Hux stares for a moment, bemused, then takes one hand from the data pad and reaches down, sliding into Ren’s hair as it is spreads out onto the bedspread. He manages to busy himself a few moments straightening knots before he gives in and allows his fingers to drift, slow across the unmapped territory of dotted, scarred shoulders, then further down to draw his fingers around lines of warm muscle and buried bone.

“Hux, I was...” Ren trails off into a muffled, unintelligible murmur, silent another moment before peeking upward through his lashes, slowly wetting his lips with a brief flicker of pink tongue. “I want to do something. _More_.”

Hux stares for a few seconds, unsure, then feels a few nerves to settle with the assertion, prompting an exhale that is little more than sparse breath. He slowly, carefully traces back up Ren’s shoulder, around his nape and along the edge of a now familiar jaw with thumb and fingertips, then pointedly captures Ren’s eyes once more just as he slides two fingers between plush lips and into hot, wet mouth, curling the others just under Ren’s chin.

Ren takes the intrusion with little rebuff, softly lapping at Hux's fingertips, tongue swirling and lewd around knuckles. He shifts forward with a sudden confident hollowing of cheeks, outright sucking now and closing his eyes as if to concentrate on this teasing massage of tongue and palate.

Hux allows the sham to go on for a minute or more, until tight heat grows unbearable and aching under his restricting trousers, the curve of his hard cock perceptible just near Ren’s cheek. He reluctantly pulls away, retrieving fingers with a lewd noise and turning to curl a thumb at the edge of Ren’s pouting lower lip, pressing just so, “More?”

Ren is painfully still for a long moment, panting breath growing loud in the quiet room, eyes wide and dark, then gives a short, fitful nod. His eyes keep determined contact as he slowly, gently nuzzles further into the crook of Hux's hip, mouthing now at the thick fabric of wool trousers; one of his hands has even found its way once more to Hux's inner thigh, curling familiarly wide and heavy just above the knee.

Hux finally frees his other, errant hand from pretense, feeling foolish still holding a data pad, and eagerly sets it aside to be forgotten for the soft curl of hair around his fingertips. He cants his hips upward and watches Ren’s wide mouth cover the small zipper between lips and cock, dampening the black fabric even darker.  

The upper clasps seem to split on their own in the next few seconds, the zipper pulling down with a quiet jitter. It is rather obvious what has happened after only a moment of disbelief, especially when Ren reaches up with an overlarge hand to massage at Hux’s cock through his briefs with something that might be captivation.

“Rather impatient, are you?” Hux exhales with a scoff, ignoring the heated flush burning at his cheeks and shoving the hand away with no little reluctance, if feeling somewhat vindicated by the indignant look sent from pretty brown eyes. He arches up to push his trousers and pants just a bit further down his thighs, until his cock is completely exposed. A miniscule part of him wants strip completely and have Ren get up to fold them nicely before continuing, but he can always do that later. He’d rather not ruin the mood while his cock has the proper focus.

Ren is somewhat abashed, for his credit, wearing a pouty look through his lashes that seems a little more real compared to the rest of the act. He slowly curves the offending hand around Hux’s bared hip, shifting down to lay against the cot so his chin is rested against Hux’s thigh, but rather than closing, his eyes now stare upward with obvious expectation.

The sight struggles between ludicrous and alluring with a flushed, swollen cock just next to his cheek.

It is a credit to Hux’s patience that he manages not to just direct that pouting mouth to said cock, instead reaching forward to tip Ren’s face over further with a pair of fingers. “Are you going to behave?”

Ren inhales with a short breath, then actually glances away with an unintelligible mutter, rolling his lips between his teeth and wetting them to a visible sheen. It is startlingly honest, enough so that the silent answer is almost more satisfying than if he’d said a word.

Hux lowers his eyes and slides his thumb just along Ren’s moist lower lip, feeling a flare hot across his skin. He delays another moment before shifting his hand and turning Ren’s head further, directing him with some impatience to his twitching cock.  

Ren scarcely hesitates a moment before moving in, and his hand on Hux’s hip nudges inward to help along the first slow drag of lips across Hux’s cock, sensation like a heated brand even after the teasing. He gives eager, smacking kisses all around the shaft, his lashes flickering closed, only sparing a few swipes of tongue that cool too quick as his focus veers from glans to root.

“Good,” Hux gasps, pleasure intensifying as that wide mouth begins sucking a throbbing line down the underside of his cock, shifting his hand and lazily following the rolling shifts of Ren’s head. His hips jerk upward in reflex when his cockhead is placed shallowly between lips, sinking into warm, wet heat and against Ren’s palate, fingers tightening in hair when a satisfied hum resonates abruptly through his cock.

He hasn't experienced this in an almost shameful amount of time, always ignoring weighted offers of favors or starry-eyed admirers of reputation. Ren is by no means either party, a rare exception that would surprise Hux to even think of sex that way – Hux hadn’t even seen his face for the first two years of their acquaintanceship. No, this is something far and away a different offer.

Ren takes a hand and wraps it around Hux’s cock just as he pulls off, smacking lips again down the shaft until he’s sloppily sucking at Hux’s balls. He’s not particularly skilled, or maybe just inexperienced, clearly imitating showy holoporn, yet still every next press of tongue or hollowed cheek is more amazing than the last for reasons nothing to do with technique nor style.

Hux brushes off the thought with a twist of his hand in Ren’s hair, urging him on and watching with tight breath as Ren eagerly takes the direction and moves his lovely mouth back to Hux’s purpling cockhead, tongue whirling and heavy. He easily sinks down to nearly gag when Hux presses the back of his head just slightly, throat momentarily vibrating with a rumbling hum that is almost painfully good by virtue of quickly approaching orgasm.

Hux yanks on hair in attempt to be polite, just this once, but Ren hardly reacts, letting up only to accommodate some ungodly whirl of his tongue – hollowing at the inside of his mouth and practically undulating along the swollen edges of Hux’s glans. It only takes a few moments more of the carnal torture before Hux’s breath seizes slightly in his chest and his muscles tense, though he manages to glance down between his lashes to watch, helplessly memorizing the stretch and pull of those sinful lips around his own throbbing cock as he comes with a quiet, uncontrolled moan.

The fogging pleasure fades all too soon, and Hux returns to himself with a breath at the darkened ceiling and the discomforting feeling of his skin going cool, absently flicking a lock of soft hair across his thumb and forefinger, “How long have you been thinking about this, then?”

Ren hums his usual non-answer, nosing now into Hux’s exposed hip with a brush of long lashes and bruised lips. It occurs belatedly that he’s _swallowed_ , as if it was expected and completely absent bitter complaint; granted, it’s entirely likely he’s saving that for later arguments.

“Turn over,” Hux says, his eyes falling half shut in anticipation as Ren follows the order immediately, flipping on his back and revealing a heavy erection trapped inside those tight briefs. Hux hesitates only a moment before reaching forward and tracing the wide shape of it with his fingertips, teasing around the smear of a very perceptible damp spot, “There’s a good boy.”

Ren gives a shuttery whimper at the same instant his cock twitches under thin fabric, hips jerking upward in undeniable response. A demanding impulse has Hux leaning forward to shunt the dark briefs down thick thighs, made easier as Ren lifts up to clear the way for his cock to ease out and kick them off. He's still soft enough that when he turns with little subtlety, the head slides high over his hip to leave shiny filaments of precome across clinching muscle.

Hux fumbles a moment more before shifting down with a mildly awkward slump, using a knee to prop Ren’s legs open, and is soon laying on his side to indulgently to curl a hand across Ren’s nape at the same time he busies the other with more comfortably pulling at that throbbing cock, elbow turned at a familiar angle, if around an unfamiliar girth and thumbing very curiously at the receding underside of foreskin. He looks up from the sight to more fiercely dig lax fingers back into thick, sweaty hair, stroking it with short turns of his wrist and scratching gently at the scalp just to watch Ren shake off the tingle.

Ren presses forward a few strokes into motley sensation, the bridge of his nose fitting perfect along the arch of Hux's cheek, panting breath hot at the corner of his lips. “ _Hux_.”

“Hm?” Hux intones, absent in concentration as he twists his palm quick around a flushed, leaking cockhead and slides down with a sweep to grip at that tightened ballsack. He turns his hand to trace his thumb slow along the standout veins of the base, feeling every little twitch as his fingers roll into flesh. He could get drunk on feeling such power under his hand.

“Hux,” Ren repeats rather than answers, head falling back into the pillow. His neck is flushed and exposed, red against Hux's paler hand, and sparks an impossible to ignore urge to lean down with an open mouth and press against the frantic pulse of his jugular.

Hux soon finds himself sucking and biting in pace with his hand at Ren’s cock, suddenly concerned with leaving his mark. He's usually angling for the opposite – forgetful as the encounter can be aside from the orgasm. He can barely stand that thought now, aches at the idea of dragging down Ren’s collared shirt the next time he kneels at Hux's feet and seeing purpling bruises left by his own teeth, rather than just that widely split scar.

Ren gives breathy, quiet moans at the attention, leaning in to both Hux's mouth and hands with eager interest. His hips begin to thrust in clumsy tandem with each pull; big, bobbing cock greedy for more pressure that Hux is almost too distracted to give, still mapping out his place on sweat-salty skin. It hardly seems to matter in the end, a few choking, wheezy gasps preluding the jerking pattern of ejaculation under Hux's palm.

Hux strokes him through it, until the leg between his spasms with a telltale urge to curl inward, then leans up to better look at the ruin of him. “So messy,” he murmurs, drawing his hand along the spattered mess of Ren’s heaving chest, smearing a thin layer of come right up to his bruising neck. His other hand is still entrenched in Ren’s now damp hair, and he turns his palm inward to drag his thumb along the flushed arch of a dotted cheek. “You need to clean up.”

The refresher is a shock of bright blue-tinged light, and Hux takes time to peel off his constricting clothing with a long, impassive stare in the mirror. He finds himself suddenly unsure what entirely just happened, or how to reconcile it with the itching anxiety at the back of his mind trying to convince him this is just another use of him for the Order. He doesn't want to think about it, will never dare to ask or even know, but recent history has taught him better to adapt to the shift of life; at least this development remains as reciprocally pleasant as Ren’s need for touch.

A hand cloth is quickly found between the week’s towels, and Hux carefully wets it before turning around to find Ren standing silent like a wraith just behind. He exhales carefully, unfolding the towel and pressing it to skin that jumps at the cool damp, clearing the flaking remnants from soft cock to sweat-sticky collarbone. “Better.”

It prompts Ren to look up through shadowy lashes, giving slow nod as a short noise of agreement breaks from his throat. He tips his chin up in earnest when Hux leans in to take his lips, kissing back with such sloppy, exhausted vigor that Hux forgets to smother a huffing breath when he pulls away.

He probably should have done that sooner.

**Author's Note:**

> LITERALLY, I HAVE NO IDEA - I just wanted like _Soft._ The working title had sorta to do with (very loosely) petplay, but... there is none. It's like, yeah, Kylo is on his knees and getting pets, but it's not like... the same? I had no idea what to tag. (Not)Petplay just doesn't have the same ring to it.


End file.
